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The Nature of Fear, Failure and Fate in Beowulf
On Fighting the Long Defeat
When I told my English teacher I’d pick Beowulf for my final oral exam, she sighed. Up till then, the classics had got me through mind-numbing hours of equations and word problems. This was because checking references to obscure historical events or translating bits and pieces of French and Latin peppered throughout the English text required my full attention, practically inducing me to forget the world with all its cares. Choosing something ‘easy’ as the last work I’d ever critically discuss in a school setting would have felt like a cop-out.
But when I opened a copy of the work in the library, I finally understood my teacher’s reaction. Not a translation, like the excellent Heaney one, but the original. I instantly drew a blank except for a few words that reminded me of modern German, quietly shelving my find after a few minutes, convinced Chaucer was the better choice.
It’s been more than ten years since that day and I’ve now read Beowulf. (Sadly, still not in the original but what’s retirement for?) The first time, I was struck by the heroism, the blood and gore and the glory of battle. There be dragons! And monsters. Swords. Warriors. And a king. Several, in fact. The fantasy lover in me crooned and waited to smugly tell off anyone who thought my love for the…
